


Deafening Silence

by Butterballs



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: I'm sorry boys, M/M, there is no plot here, this is just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterballs/pseuds/Butterballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean challenges Aidan to stay completely quiet during sex, then naturally does everything possible to make Aidan lose said challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deafening Silence

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely no plot here. I was feeling a bit rusty and trying, unsuccessfully, to write the final part of _The Boundaries of Friendship_ so I threw a tantrum and uh…decided to write some porn I guess.
> 
> (Title borrowed from _Deafening Silence_ by Machine Head. The song has nothing to do with the fic, I just love Machine Head.)
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, this is 100% fiction.

Aidan is a screamer. There’s no finer way to put it. Dean loves it for the most part: it’s a vocal affirmation that he’s at least reasonably competent in bed, and he certainly prefers a loud partner to a silent one, but the fact is it has become something of a talking point amongst the cast. Dean was high-fived the first time it happened. Now they’re all asking if Aidan could possibly shut the fuck up.

‘You’re all just jealous,’ Aidan snaps when eventually confronted about it. He’s not even embarrassed. That’s okay, though, because Dean’s embarrassed enough for the both of them, blushing so hard he’s one ill-timed spark away from catching on fire. Still, he’s not about to ask Aidan to keep a lid on it. Not outright. One, it’d hurt Aidan’s feelings. Two, he doesn’t necessarily _want_ Aidan to tone it down…but he is curious if Aidan is capable of silent sex.

The key is in the phrasing. He has to make Aidan want it too.

Dean doesn’t have to think about it very hard. He invites himself around to Aidan’s place, shoves him up against the wall and kisses the breath from him. When Aidan is writhing against him helplessly, desperate for Dean to take it further, Dean nips at his earlobe and says, trying to keep the grin from his voice, ‘ _Fuck_ , Aidan, you sound so hot. The noises you make…’

Aidan’s breath quickens as Dean runs his hands up Aidan’s thighs, stops short of his ass. ‘I’m g-glad _you_ appreciate them. Some of these guys act like they’ve never heard somebody getting laid before.’

Dean smiles against his neck. He kisses Aidan’s clavicle, breath coming slightly faster as Aidan’s fingers brush against the base of his skull. ‘You know they’re just jealous…but I am curious…’

‘What’s that?’ Aidan asks. Dean sneaks a look and notices that his eyes are closed, cheeks becoming flushed. He’s not just vocal; he’s responsive all-round. He plants a kiss a little further up Aidan’s neck.

‘It’s just that…’ He sucks a gentle bruise just under where Aidan’s shirt collar would be, where it won’t be seen in his costume. ‘I dunno. I don’t think you can do it.’

Aidan, of course, takes the bait. ‘Try me.’

‘I don’t think you can have sex silently.’

Aidan snorts indignantly. ‘I think you’ll find I _can_ , I just choose not to. What would my incentive be, anyway? If you’re going to challenge me you’ve got to make it worth my while, Dean.’

‘Your incentive,’ Dean says with a wet curl of his tongue around Aidan’s ear, ‘is that Luke is having a bit of a party right next door. Right now. Do you _really_ want them to hear everything?’

Aidan makes an offended noise. ‘Rude bastard, why weren’t we invited?’

‘We were. I said we had plans.’

Aidan closes his eyes and licks his lips as he feels Dean’s mouth move to the responsive patch of skin behind his ear. He visibly shivers as Dean places his mouth – just barely – on his skin and opens his lips, brushing them against the nearly-invisible, downy hairs on Aidan’s neck. Aidan throws his to the side, aching for more, but Dean doesn’t give in. ‘No…no noise at all?’ he grunts. His hands are clawing at his knees, flexing like he wants to grab Dean and fuck him until they both can’t see. ‘Why don’t you gag me, then?’

The quick huff of Dean’s breath against Aidan’s neck as he laughs is so ticklish Aidan nearly can’t bear it. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So would I, for that matter…but not this time, Aidan. Gagging you would make it too easy. I know you like a challenge. You don’t like to lose.’ He licks Aidan’s neck with a firm flick of his tongue once, pleased by the way Aidan’s body jolts unexpectedly. ‘So…do you think you can do it?

‘What happens if I lose?’

‘Well, you’ll be punished, won’t you,’ Dean says calmly, his expression neutral. ‘I’ll decide the severity of the punishment based on how badly you lose.’

Something about the way he says makes Aidan shiver. So far that side of sex remains largely unexplored for them. He is tempted to lose on purpose just to see what would happen. ‘And what if I win?’

‘You can decide the reward.’ Dean’s sudden quick nip of the tip of his ear makes Aidan yelp. ‘And you can’t lose on purpose. I’ll know, and punishment won’t necessarily be pleasurable,’ he warns as if reading Aidan’s mind. Aidan nods, spreading his legs to accommodate his rapidly swelling cock, fisting his hands. Waiting for Dean to instruct him.

Dean rolls his eyes. ‘You’re allowed to _move_ , you know. In fact, get comfortable, lie on the bed or whatever. I intend to make this last for some time.’

Aidan wonders what will happen if he comes before Dean is through with him but he doesn’t ask, in fact it’s probably best that he doesn’t know; opting to do what he’s told and make for the bedroom, flinging himself across the bed unceremoniously. His shirt is already missing – he rarely has one on in Dean’s presence, to be honest – and when he goes to remove his trousers,   
Dean stops him. ‘That’s my job,’ he mutters, flicking the button open and lowering the zipper, but not going any further.

He sits up and splays his hands over Aidan’s torso, admiring. Aidan is on the hairy side (although not on his back, thank Christ) but that has never bothered Dean – he’d find it odd if Aidan suddenly started shaving or waxing. And right now all that hair is working to his advantage, giving him something to brush against and make Aidan squirm.

‘I have – I have a question,’ he says, grabbing Dean’s wrist. ‘I mean, before this really starts. What about, like, heavy breathing?’

‘Heavy breathing is fine,’ Dean replies. ‘Moaning, grunting, squealing, whining, begging, speaking or otherwise exercising your vocal cords at all is not. Now, shall we begin?’

He drops his head and begins to suck Aidan’s left nipple, soft at first and increasing the pressure gradually. Usually Aidan would be making some urgent, keening sound by now but, true to his word, he remains silent. His eyes are closed and mouth parted, his exhalations shaky and measured. He’s being remarkably controlled. Clearly Dean isn’t trying hard enough.

He repeats the action on Aidan’s right nipple, pinching the left one as he releases the other from his mouth. Aidan jumps and smacks the back of his head but he’s smiling. He knows what Dean is trying to do. 

Dean plants haphazard kisses all over his chest and stomach, one hand braced to support himself and the other clutching at Aidan’s inner thigh. This is especially evil, maybe even underhanded, because Aidan is ridiculously ticklish along his ribs and usually pushes Dean away with a shriek if Dean even looks like he’s _thinking_ about entering that territory. As it stands he endures the torture biting his lip and shaking – literally shaking – with suppressed laughter. Dean watches, fascinated, as goosebumps break out over Aidan’s flesh. He looks to the side to see Aidan’s abs flexing with the effort of not throwing Dean across the room. It’s incredible, really, what he notices when Aidan’s not bossing him around and yelling loud enough for the entire island to hear. It’s as if all his usual vocal responses are manifesting themselves in his skin.

He stops just after Aidan’s navel, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of Aidan’s trousers and pulling them down. He’s commando, the cheeky fucker, so there’s no extra layer to remove. Dean blows on the end of Aidan’s erection, transfixed as it arches up towards him. He wants so much to taste it…but he also wants Aidan to suffer a little bit more. 

He licks down the length of Aidan’s cock as slowly as he can manage, his eyes straining to see Aidan’s reaction. Aidan looks, well…delectable, this frustrated. He also looks like he wants to punch Dean in the face just a little bit.

Feeling briefly – very briefly - sorry for him, Dean fits his mouth over Aidan’s cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucking exactly three times before pulling off. His tongue is teasingly soft and everywhere as he tries to commit each ridge and change in the texture of Aidan’s skin to memory. Usually, Aidan is saying all sorts of filthy things by now (‘Fuckin’ hell, Dean, you should see yourself, you suck cock like it’s the only thing you were ever meant to do,’) or moaning loud enough to make Martin bang on the trailer door in a futile attempt to get them to shut up, so it’s a novelty to have this opportunity to study him. 

He moves his mouth down again, faster then slower and faster again, tracing his tongue around and over the head to lick up Aidan’s pre-come. Before Aidan Dean never would’ve thought that oral sex on a dude could be so enjoyable. How wrong he was. 

Aidan’s hands are above his head, scrabbling at the wall because he’s too cheap to fork out for a bedframe, his pelvis shoving up against Dean despite Dean’s hands trying to hold him down. It takes a stern warning (‘If you don’t stop fucking my face, I swear to God,’) before he stops it. Then Dean resumes the suction and Aidan has to stick an arm in front of his mouth and bite down on it lest he lose the challenge.

He’s moments from coming when he appears to regain his senses and smacks Dean on the back of the head, their signal for ‘Get the fuck off before I make a mess of your face’. Dean appreciates the warning but he’s not done tormenting his lover yet.

Dean slides his hands under Aidan and grasps both buttocks, squeezing just because he can then easing Aidan over onto his side and his stomach. Aidan twists his head around and looks at Dean quizzically.

‘Just relax,’ he says, patting Aidan’s rump. He scoots back, folding his legs underneath himself so he can crouch between Aidan’s thighs, then spreads Aidan’s arse cheeks to expose the pink hole within. Aidan’s quick inhalation is audible even muffled against the pillows. They don’t do this often – although both of them have admitted that it feels great, it also feels kind of weird, and neither is particularly keen on performing the act.

Still, Dean’s past the point of playing fair and wants to see if this’ll be the thing that breaks Aidan. He brushes a finger over the hole, watching it twitch, then lowers his mouth and licks.  
Aidan gasps and produces an interesting gurgling sound, as if he were about to moan and is trying to cram it back down his throat. His hands scratch down the sheets, tear at his hair, flail through the air apparently without thinking as his ass pushes back against Dean’s face in the search for faster, more, harder, just _anything_. While Dean can’t quite bring himself to insert his tongue he continues to lick, tiny kitten-like licks that he knows are nothing more than a tease. It must be hell for Aidan. Dean is half jealous, half impressed and entirely done with _not_ fucking his clearly begging-for-it boyfriend.

He flips Aidan back over and gropes blindly for the lube and the condoms that Aidan is supposed to keep on the dresser at all times. ‘Where –‘ he starts, not having the chance to finish his sentence as Aidan reaches to the left without looking and throws both the lube and the condom at Dean. Lobs them rather hard at his head, actually.

‘Frustrated?’ Dean asks with a laugh. He throws the condom back at Aidan. ‘Put it on yourself. I have to…I have to…’

He opts for showing over telling, dumping a generous amount of liquid over his fingers and pushing two of them inside himself. He winces (probably should’ve started with one) but wills his body to relax and take it, prodding awkwardly for a moment or two until his fingers bump that glorious concentration of nerves deep inside him. He keeps his eyes open and watches Aidan for a reaction as he moans, fucking himself on his fingers in preparation for Aidan’s cock.

Aidan’s jaw has dropped, his eyes wide open, not blinking as if he’s afraid to miss even a nanosecond of the show Dean is performing for him. The condom is half on, forgotten when Dean began to distract him. His chest is rising and falling almost too fast. It’ll mean an embarrassing emergency call for Dean if he hyperventilates and passes out.

‘Condom,’ Dean reminds him, sliding another finger inside. He does his best to breathe slowly, deeply, trying to make the twinge of pain go away. It never seems to hurt as much when Aidan does it. One of these days Dean’s going to have to ask him what the secret is.

Aidan rolls the rest of the condom down, opens his mouth and closes it again, obviously restraining himself from snapping at Dean to hurry the fuck up. Not that he necessarily needs to say anything, the frustration is written all over his face – and all over his body, for that matter; visible in the flex and release of his muscles.

Dean hovers over Aidan’s cock and slowly, inch by inch, sits on it, biting his lip almost hard enough to break the skin as he maintains his concentration. This is finally what breaks Aidan: he grasps Dean’s hips and says, ‘Fuuuuuck,’ in one long, drawn-out breath,

‘You lose,’ Dean tries to laugh. It comes out like more of a sob. He wasn’t often on top like this so right now it didn’t feel all that great – maybe if he moved his hips like that – oh, _fuck yeah_. He does it again.

‘Fuck you,’ Aidan whines.

‘Trying,’ Dean says, momentarily not really paying attention to what Aidan’s doing, if he’s staying quiet or not. He lifts up, aims, slams back down, and Aidan makes that peculiar sound that must really hurt his lungs but bless him, he is trying not to lose more badly than he already has.

He holds onto Dean and propels his hips upwards, making Dean curse and fall forward. It’s another couple of tries before he really hits Dean’s prostate but when he finds it, he memorises the angle and begins to fuck in earnest, seemingly determined to make Dean’s cries loud enough for the both of them.

‘I…Jesus,’ Dean pants. ‘I know what you’re trying to do.’ Aidan smirks. 

Not for the first time Dean curses Aidan for not having a proper headboard to hold onto. Instead he grits his teeth and prays that he doesn’t topple completely over as they begin to move in tandem, Dean making a range of undignified groans as he feels his body creep closer to the edge, Aidan’s face tomato-red and his breathing alternating between dangerously rapid and completely non-existent. 

Dean is trying not to come first but the possibility seems more and more likely as Aidan’s cock nudges his prostate, the scowl on Aidan’s face meaning he’s on a mission to make Dean lose it before him. Then he palms Dean’s cock and encircles it, beginning to stroke in exactly the way he knows Dean likes it (not too rough, not too fast) and, well. Dean’s won the battle but lost the war.  
He holds it off for as long as he can manage, denying himself the pleasure his body craves, then he gets a look at Aidan’s face, twisted in wonderful agony and clearly trying to do (or not do, rather) the same thing. He comes with a low cry, rocking mindlessly as his orgasm is wrung for him. 

He finishes in time to watch Aidan come as soundlessly as he promised. Aidan’s eyes are closed, his chest and neck flushed, shuddering uncontrollably as his climax hits him. Dean is almost envious. It looks like silence made it all the more intense. It takes several minutes for Aidan’s breathing to even out and for the tension to completely leave his body. 

‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ,’ he says after Dean has dismounted, removing the condom and flinging it across the room into the bin. He kisses Dean’s forehead. ‘Incredible.’

They’re lying in that peaceful post-coital state, not entirely aware of and completely uncaring about what’s going on outside of their bed, when there’s a sharp knock at the door. The knock repeats a moment later, as if the visitor is becoming more frantic.

‘Hold your fuckin’ horses,’ Aidan mutters, clumsily pulling on a pair of boxers (could be his, could be Dean’s, he’s not sure and quite frankly doesn’t care). Dean follows him, curious.

It’s Luke, frowning worriedly. Richard is with him. They both appear inordinately relieved at the appearance of Aidan, doubly so when they spot Dean behind him.

‘Evening, gents,’ Aidan greets them. He pats his chest, looking for his usual after sex cigarette, momentarily forgetting he’s not wearing a shirt. 

‘Er…hi,’ Luke says. He looks from Aidan to Dean and back again. ‘We thought…we were a bit worried. When we couldn’t hear any screaming or whatever. We thought Aidan might’ve gotten hurt. Hit his head or something.’

‘Aidan’s not usually so…quiet,’ Richard adds.

‘Oh fuck you guys,’ Aidan exclaims, grinning. ‘I don’t make _that_ much noise, Jesus.’

‘There was _plenty_ of noise, by the way,’ Dean says with a wink. ‘You just weren’t listening.’


End file.
